Soft Fate (Wolven Moon Book 2)

by Dany Rae Miller

  “Shavone is with him,” Emmanuel says. “That’s all he cares about.”

  “Not for long she isn’t,” Nash seethes.

  “That remains to be seen. Have you heard from Jack?” Emmanuel asks.

  “Not yet.”

  Again, the feed stops when they leave the room.

  The next one is short, too. I tap on it.

  “You felt it, didn’t you?” It’s Ben’s voice followed by silence.

  “Fuck! Talk to me, man,” he continues. “My wolf released, but I still feel like fucking shit. She mated with him. I can feel it.”

  What?

  I sit up straighter.

  “Can you?” Ben asks.

  Nash’s roar answers his question and mine of who Ben was talking to. There’s horrible background noise and, then, the feed goes silent. So, that’s how the computer wound up on the floor.

  I stare at the screen. Were they talking about me?

  No. That’s insane. How could they have possibly — I shake my head incredulous. Enrique is right. I do need a thorough education on wolves and their abilities.

  I blow out a breath and refocus. Only two more recordings left. I click on the next one.

  “Shavone!” It’s Enrique shouting on the audio. “Shavone!”

  No, it’s not entirely Enrique. His wolf is there, too. I can tell the difference in the tone now, and I can tell he’s struggling to keep it together.

  “Last I saw her, she was walking into the storeroom.” Antonio isn’t yelling, but he sounds frantic.

  This is the night I was kidnapped.

  “She couldn’t have left. Her purse is in the dressing room, and her car is in the parking lot,” Antonio says.

  “She didn’t leave. She was taken.” I can hear my wolf-man panting in the recording — he’s laboring to maintain control. “The hunters.”

  “No one scented” — Antonio is cut off by Enrique’s strangled cry of agony.

  The animal sounds coming through my speakers are heart-wrenching wolf cries unlike any I’ve ever heard. Not vicious or angry, these are wails of torment and distress.

  There’s a loud thud, a groan, claws running and, then, an eerie, odd sound.

  What is that?

  I drag the audio bar back. I tap the volume up on my keyboard.

  Thud. Groan. Scratch. Swish.

  A zephyr?

  I listen to it a few more times.

  Oh, yes, it’s definitely a zephyr. And even though I’m experiencing it through a recording, I sense it’s not a nice spirit.

  “You are dark,” I mumble aloud.

  The fireplace poker rattles in its stand as though agreeing with my assessment.

  The audio of the zephyr continues for about a minute more and abruptly stops as does the recording.

  That dark spirit wasn’t there when I had arrived for work that night and it certainly wasn’t there today. Hope whoever unleashed it sent it back.

  I scroll to the final recording on the list.

  “C’mon,” I whisper aloud. “Give me something to go on.”

  I hit play.

  “Are you pleased with yourself?” I don’t recognize the woman’s voice. Although the statement is meant to scold, the tone of her voice isn’t. She’s amused.

  “What are you doing here, Kennedy?” Enrique says.

  Kennedy. This is Jack’s sister. What a difference in voices. Kennedy’s is the exact opposite of Jack’s.

  “I came to fix the mess you made.” Kennedy’s voice is smooth as silk.

  “Me? You’re the one who didn’t execute the hex on Shavone properly,” Enrique says.

  Hex? On me?

  Kennedy laughs. “Oh, I did exactly as you asked.”

  I didn’t hear that right.

  I pull the audio bar back to listen, again.

  “Oh, I did exactly as you asked,” she laughs.

  I stop the audio.

  Enrique had me hexed?

  No.

  I play it, again, listening for a glitch in the track. The spyware could have malfunctioned.

  “Oh, I did exactly as you asked,” she laughs.

  It doesn’t sound like there’s a break in the recording.

  Don’t jump to conclusions.

  Gritting my teeth against a burning dread, I let the recording play on.

  “Until you touched her, she was celibate,” Kennedy continues.

  I think about the first time Enrique touched me. It was at my interview at the Dollhouse. He took my hand and kissed it. The massive lump in my throat at that moment was the hex releasing. Of course. Had I been paying attention, I might have realized it.

  “You could have shared that caveat of the hex,” Enrique says.

  “If you’d shared that she was coming for an interview, I would have.” Kennedy laughs.

  It’s undeniable. My mate had me hexed by this witch who finds the whole thing funny.

  I close my eyes to the searing pain in my heart. All these years I thought it was grief for Dillon holding my libido back.

  In the silence of Enrique’s bedroom, on his bed, hand over my mouth, I rock my body — trying to fend off the raw agony of Enrique’s disloyalty. Nash’s, Ben’s and Val’s deceit was horrid. Their transgressions knocked the breath out of me. But this? Oh, this misery is a tsunami of pain washing in on itself over and over.

  Too shocked to even cry, I let the feed play on.

  Over Kennedy’s laugh are footsteps coming closer.

  “The French are gone,” Antonio says.

  Keys jangle.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Antonio says.

  “To make sure that French bastard doesn’t hurt Shavone,” Enrique says.

  A door slams. “No, you’re not,” Antonio says.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “Kennedy, will you talk some sense to my brother?” Antonio says.

  “The damage is done,” she says. “If LaFontaine knows that Shavone is working here, so does my sister. It won’t be long until Jack brings the full force of the Alliance down on Enrique.”

  “Fuck the Alliance!” Enrique shouts.

  There are scuffling sounds.

  “I’ll go through you,” Enrique hisses. “I will not rest until I’m certain she’s safe.”

  “Let him go,” Kennedy murmurs.

  “This is a bad idea,” Antonio growls.

  There are footstep sounds and the door creaks.

  “One note, Enrique,” Kennedy continues, her tone still smooth, but absolutely serious now. “Jack will be on the warpath.”

  “She’s powerless,” Enrique says.

  “Her crones aren’t,” Kennedy says.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Enrique’s voice fades as he walks out.

  “You want him to start a war, don’t you?” Antonio doesn’t seem to like Kennedy much. Neither do I.

  “I may not have a choice.” Kennedy keeps talking, but the volume of her voice muffles as their footsteps walk away and the recording ends.

  Enrique had another witch put a curse on my sex drive. If I hadn’t heard it for myself — I rock my body, again.

  The band on my finger heats. The mating venom surges in my cells. It defends the wolf it came from.

  I saved you.

  The hunter’s knife, dripping red with Enrique’s blood, comes vividly to mind.

  Would burn myself alive for you.

  The stench of Enrique’s charred flesh permeates my nostrils as though it’s happening now in this room.

  You betrayed me.

  I’m your mate. Forgive me. Please.

  How?

  I touch Enrique’s mark on my throat and close my eyes.

  The question constricts my chest, squeezing my heart in its ferocious fist until I am numb.

  Good.

  I drop my hand and open my eyes.

  It’s good to be numb.

  Time to go to worship. Scooting off the bed, I tuck my iPad into my bag. I lift the tote and look
around the room. The gun gleams at me.

  Take it.

  I hate guns, but if Enrique and Antonio were ambushed by wolves tonight —

  chapter 23

  “Are you sure it’ll hold him?” The echoing tone of Kennedy’s voice sounds as though we’re in a tunnel or a cave of some sort.

  “Not at all,” Uncle Agustin replies. “But your magic combined with four foot deep walls should give us enough time.”

  Time for what?

  I attempt to open my eyes, to move, but I’m paralyzed. I’m being carried, naked, by my arms and legs. My ass skids on the floor. It’s cold and hard. Concrete, perhaps?

  “Lift him higher!” Kennedy shouts.

  “He’s a wolf, dear,” Uncle says.

  Dear?

  The wolves carrying me acquiesce to Kennedy’s order, jerking me up.

  “I know. I still don’t want him hurt anymore than necessary,” Kennedy says. “Did you have to hit him so hard?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Uncle says.

  A small hand, Kennedy’s no doubt, smooths my head where Uncle smashed my skull -- not once, not twice, but three times.

  My beast instinctively recoils from her traitorous touch.

  Kennedy gasps.

  “Damn,” Uncle mutters. “Hurry up, boys. Get him in the cell.”

  Through my wolf, I discover, my body can move — however slightly. I give him free reign, and my eyes pop open.

  We are indeed in a dank, torch lit dungeon. Carrying me are six wolves, two are Natives. I commit their faces to memory.

  You are dead. All of you.

  A metal door slams against a wall. I’m placed none too gently inside a small cell. My wolf regains control over my right hand. Growling, I grip the slowest one, a Norse, by the ankle.

  “He’s got me,” he cries out.

  “Let go of him.” One of the French kicks me in the ribs.

  The wolves scramble out and the cell door slams shut. Uncle’s face appears in the tiny barred opening in the door, his eyes gaze into mine.

  “The quicker you get to the little witch the better.”

  Shavone.

  Kennedy’s face replaces Uncle’s. Her lips move and I lose control of my right hand, again.

  “I’ll send in the second degrees to keep him immobile.”

  I’ll kill you both!

  I want to scream it at the top of my lungs, but those muscles aren’t responding to my commands.

  “I’ll take the van,” Kennedy says. Keys clatter.

  Her footsteps move away, back from where we came.

  chapter 24

  Lauralynn squints at the photo on my iPad. “Sorry, Shav. She doesn’t look familiar to me.”

  One by one, the girls shake their heads at the lady in the van. They pass the tablet to Cherie, who doesn't recognize her, either.

  Gabriela peeks over Cherie’s shoulder.”I know her.”

  “Who is she, Gabs?”

  Cherie hands my iPad back to me. I take it with my left hand. Lauralynn, with a curious brow, stares at the mark on my index finger.

  “That’s Kennedy, my family’s business lawyer.”

  Enrique’s attorney as well.

  Jack slips through the trees and walks toward us. “What about my sister?”

  “She’s been stalking me.” I put the iPad back in my bag.

  “And that is the best reason not to use this circle.” Val, her arm in a sling, is right behind Jack. She takes long strides, her worship robe fluttering around her long legs. She passes Jack and stands by my side, setting her tote on the ground.

  “Au contraire. This circle will give you” — Jack nods at me — “the power to fight her.”

  “What?” Gabs says. “Why does Shav need to fight Kennedy?”

  “Fairly certain she’s the person who kidnapped me,” I say.

  “I knew it was an inside job!” Hands in fists, Nash appears from the shadow of the pool house.

  Ben snarls his agreement.

  “He had nothing to do with it,” I say and mean it. On this, my intuition is certain.

  “Like hell he didn't.”

  “Let’s get this session started.”

  I push away my doubts and past Nash. He takes a spot leaning against a nearby tree. As though he’s taking a stroll in a park, Ben joins him and leans on the other side of the tree. Guess we have an audience tonight.

  Fine.

  I drop my robe and grab my tote.

  “Wait.” Val reaches into her bag. “You’ll need this.”

  In her hands is the worn Gentil book of shadows.

  With reverence, I gingerly take the offering and look into the eyes of the real Val for a few seconds.

  “Thank you.”

  The curtain comes back down and she steps back. No doubt about it. She is ensorcelé.

  I turn toward the circle.

  “Are you sure, Priestess?” Cherie slips her robe from her shoulders. “This circle wanted to kill Ells and me last time.”

  “It wasn’t the circle.” Crossing the stones, my leg grazes one of them. Wow. The energy seeps into my skin. My other leg over and I step fully into the divine.

  I close my eyes and can do nothing but absorb the power. Unfortunately, it strips away the numbness that has been protecting me.

  The hurt of Enrique’s betrayal bombards me with a blast of torturous heartache. The band on my finger tingles, again, to defend my wolf.

  Crisp and clear, I hear his voice.

  Do you trust me? He had asked.

  Irrevocably, I had said.

  I did.

  And, I still do. Even now, knowing what he did.

  I feel his wolf in my cells, begging for forgiveness.

  There has only ever been you, little witch.

  Love, bright love and total attempts to soothe the hurt. And on its own my heart responds. Is forgiveness really this easy?

  It’s commonsense. The hex on my sex drive was the act of a jealous wolf and an irresponsible witch. How dare he!

  I’m sorry.

  His mating venom floods my veins with a river of his remorse.

  Love and hurt twist me in knots.

  The thought that Kennedy, someone Enrique trusts, is behind his disappearance layers on a petrifying fear on top of all the other emotions I feel.

  Where are you, my wolf?

  The black band around my finger warms. I rub it. Images of him in a concrete cell flash in my mind.

  “You’re radiating agony.” Lauralynn lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Does it have something to do with that?” She nods at my finger. “And the fact that Enrique isn’t here?” She looks around. “He wouldn’t let you do this alone.”

  “He’s in trouble.” I force back a lump that threatens to block my throat. There’s no time for that. “I’m changing our first ritual tonight to a locator spell to find him.”

  She shakes her head. “No. I won’t agree to that.”

  “Ells!”

  “You can’t do him or yourself any good if you’re passed out! That Duret bitch might come back for you. You need clarity to defend yourself!”

  “Second,” Cherie murmurs.

  “Ay,” the others say.

  Even Nash and Ben chime in.

  “Then, we need to hurry, because this session isn't ending until I have Enrique’s location.”

  My coven springs into action.

  While the girls place candles around the space, I prop the iPad so that Amber and Fallon, the only two of the coven who couldn’t be here in the flesh, can see and participate with us.

  From my tote of tools, I take my athame, a bundle of sage and thyme, a lemon and some pins, and place them in the center with the book of shadows.

  Gabs returns and nods. As we prep for worship, our she-wolf scans the perimeter to be sure we have privacy to practice our craft. She has done that for as long as I’ve known her, and I love her for it.

  Jack has retreated to stand near Ben and Nash, whose eyes also
scan around. It occurs to me that he, too, kept watch for us during worship as did Dillon — a role of wolves, apparently, that Mom didn’t share with me.

  Did Enrique secretly protect us, too? I’ve no doubt that he did.

  My gaze moves from Jack to Ben. He shakes his head. He doesn’t approve.

  Too bad.

  Val is the only witch who remains outside the circle.

  “You’re a member of this coven,” I say. “It was your mother’s coven and your birthright.”

  Remembering my own biological mother has put Val’s hurt in better perspective.

  Val swallows and licks her lips, but she doesn’t move.

  “This is one hell of a powerful space,” Cherie says. “I don’t blame her for being afraid.”

  Val balks. “I’m not afraid.” Carefully slipping off the sling and straightening her arm, she leaves her robe on the ground and stomps into the circle.

  Cherie gives me a sideways smirk.

  Since Val’s left arm is hurt, the girls on either side of her hold her waist.

  I grip the athame firmly and waste no time casting our circle.

  “Guardians of the east.” I raise and point the sword to the east.

  A member of the coven lights the appropriate candle.

  “Spirits of the rising sun, I hail and invoke thee to our ritual please come.”

  The candle flame roars high.

  I continue to summon the guardians of the south, west and north. Each time the corresponding candle turns into a blow torch.

  The power! Oh, the power here!

  Next, I use the athame to score a pentagram into the dirt as I call the elements.

  Val hisses and clenches her teeth when I close the star at the top. I lay the sword at my feet, and move to join hands with my coven. A circle of witches around a pentagram forms a pentacle — the ultimate symbol of our unity and mutual protection.

  The surge of presence is undeniable. The ancestors, a lot of them, are here before we even ask them to come.

  “Thank you, elders, for joining us tonight,” Lauralynn breathes, pleased. “Your daughters are humbled by your might.”

  Each girl in turn pays tribute to the spirits and elements as they see fit — except Val, who simply shakes her head and passes back to me.

  Before I step back into the center, I take the hand of the girl on my left and put it in the hand of the girl at my right to keep the pentacle sealed.

  “As you wish, Voisins, our first order of business tonight is a psyche cleanse.”